Death won't do us apart
by MoonMonya
Summary: One day, Arthur's long lost lover finds him again, and the following morning Arthur is left to wonder if this was all a dream. He had lost Alfred so long ago, in a horrible incident. The Brit simply has to find out if his imagination was plying tricks on him, or if he was really reunited with his lover once again.
1. Prologue

I thought it was all just a dream... An illusion... If it was- it was perhaps the best dream I've ever had. His angelic form stood in the doorway, nothing hiding his perfect body from my gaze anymore. He moved agonizingly slowly towards me as I laid on my bed, my own body hidden by nothing but a blanket.I felt the matress sink as he sat down by me, his lips a gentle smile, yet his eyes full of lust, want and need. Though I'm sure that, at that time, I mirrored that expression.

Slowly, his hand slipped under the blanket that was hiding me from the world, I froze momenterally, my breathing stopping.

„I'm going to be gentle with you... Don't be afraid of me," he spoke in a soft murmur that calmed me instantly- there was something in his voice, it was like a drug. I nodded, though stiffly, he chuckled.

A shudder went down my spine as his hand slipped onto my stomach, his skin ice-cold against mine. In a moment, the protective blanket was discarded onto the floor, and he was on top of me, his presence cold as he loomed over me.

Despite me knowing that this couldn't be real, a bright blush dusted my cheeks, but I didn't have much time to think about it, as his cold lips were slammed onto mine in a passionate kiss. His palms rested on my chest, mine on his, as our lips moved in sync. My eyes were closed and I let myself melt into the passionate kiss. His tongue slithered over my bottom lip, forcing my lips apart. I don't try to resist- I let him know that I'm fully his. A moan escaped into our shared kissas his tongue explored my wet cavern, my tongue responded and soon they start a heated dance, filled with passion and love I thought I'd never feel.

My ecstasy is cut short though as his lips slip off mine, my lips left parted, begging for more as his taste still lingers upon my tongue- sweet and yet somehow so bitter... Another small moan escaped my lips as his own land on my exposed skin on my neck. From there those cold kisses trailed only downwards, while his hand slipped down from my chest and down onto my stiff member, where it stopped, his cold touch ghosting over my member, stroking it with much care.

Those cerulean eyes fixed on me, lust and pleasure reflected from them when I sounded a breathy, loud moan. I felt like jelly by now as he gently as he continued running his digits over my member- his little kisses continued to trail down my body as well. Another moan is forced out of me, as his cold lips took my nipple between them, sucking on it for a moment, before giving it a last lick, his lips moving away.

My eyes flutter shut as his lips finally reached my member, placing a small kiss onto it. „A-Alfred... Please..." I begged in a weak voice: I couldn't stand this teasing much longer!

It seemed that he had heard, as his lips closed aroudn the tip, his cold tongue swirling around the tip of my member. He let me slip further into his mouth. I coudln't help myself, my hips moved on their own as I thrusted into his mouth.

The moans of pleasure had become very loud now, much to his liking as he seemed to smile while sucking me off. My eyes widened with shock as I came and he swallowed. Oh after all, this was a dream- anything could happen.

Silence hung around us as he removed his lips from around me. „Now... It's your turn." The silence was broken by his whisper. My turn...?

I realized what he meant when he slipped his cold digits into my mouth. My tongue wrapped around each one, licking them over for a while, before he finally took them out.

My eyelids slid shut over my emerald eyes, just he inserted his first finger into me. A moan was heard again, but I was soon cut off when he inserted his second one. I clenched my teeth and my fingers formed a fist, in which I was clutching the bedsheet. When the third digit entered me, I coudln't help but to emit a cry of pain, though it was a short one. A tear sparkled in the corner of my eye and rolled down my cheek as he pulled his fingers out and leaned closer to kiss the tear away.

„I love you," his soft murmur made the pain leave entierly. Those words... I've been waiting to hear them for so long...

„I... I love you too," my voice was weak, almost shaking- all this was overwhelming, but I enjoyed every passionate moment.

A shot of pain- he was inside me now- a cry of pain followed suit, tears reappearing in my eyes. A gentle hand was rested upon my cheek- I leaned into the cold touch, closing my eyes as he ordered me to relax- whispered to me that he won't hurt me. And yes, when he moved deeped, I cried out again. His gentle hand caressed my cheek, he was apologizing...

And suddenly, just liek that, the pain was gone. There was only overflowing pleasure and passion. He thrusted faster and faster with every breathy moan I gave. My eyes fluttered shut once again when he stopped moving and came into me. He pulled out and I suddenly felt so empty... So alone...

„Don't go..." I begged breathlessly. I coudln't be left alone again... Not after this...

Cold lips upon mine, another heated kiss as his hand caressed my cheek. „You know I can't stay," he dragges the blanket over me again, tucking me in- as if protecting my body from anyone else who might want to claim it. But we know that I was his and nobody else's.

A ray of sunlight stubbornly lingered on my eyelids, intent on waking me from my slumber. I opened emerald eyes, which widened in hope. But no... He wasn't there... I was alone... But I knew that was I saw was no dream...


	2. Memories best forgotten

**AN rambling: I know it's not in 1****st**** person, SORRY! D: Just... 1****st**** person is not my thing... . Also I don't usually describe characters in my fanfics, but I have a non-hetalian reading this one, so I decided that I should this time around. ^^ I hope this clears some things up for you guys that you might have been wondering in the prologue. ( Phs. No. This just raises more questions. GG Moonie.) But anyway, onto the story now. **

CH 1- Memories better forgotten

To understand better the story of Arthur Kirkland and Alfred F. Jones, we must travel back on their timeline for about 2 years or so. Two years ago happened an event so horrible, it left a scar on everyone involved. Some, it changed entirely, some put on a show, pretending to be their usual selves, but inside they're completely different. But some simply ceased to exist after said event. So we dedicate this chapter to memories batter forgotten, but memories that simply burn in your mind too brightly. Memories that Arthur Kirkland loathes.

Perhaps it is wisest to start at the beginning, because beginnings are where stories usually start. And this story begins with Arthur Kirkland, a rather handsome British gentleman, being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Green eyes opened groggily as Arthur finally came to, his senses returning to him and registering the unfamiliar environment around him. It was damp... and rather dark, though that might have been caused by the blindfold around his eyes. Though those two things weren't clearly as important as the fact that his hands were tied behind his back by a strong rope- try as he might, he simply couldn't get it off his wrists.

"I see you're awake," a voice from next to him. His captor perhaps? No, the man sounded tired and scared- he was in the same situation. He had an accent... Spanish, perhaps? Arthur clearly wasn't an expert when it came to accents.

"Arthur! Thank god, I thought you weren't going to wake up!" another voice- this time familiar, with an American accent. Under any other circumstances, this voice would have made Arthur annoyed, and yet not it was like a choir of angels. Alfred, Arthur's American boyfriend, was here too. ...But where was 'here'?

"You bastard! Keep your fucking mouth shut, will you!?" another unfamiliar voice, this time also accented. Italian? But the person behind the voice didn't seem pleasant, not with that talking manner of his anyway. Not your typical Italian- Arthur decided.

"Oh Lovi, you're the one shouting now," the Spaniard spoke and chuckled. The way the Spaniard spoke made Arthur wonder if he and the Italian were a couple. Another unlikely combination- just like the obnoxious American Alfred and the gentlemanly Brit Arthur was.

The blindfold fell off Arthur's eyes, the Brit blinked- he was expecting light to blind him, but the room was dim, all of the windows were covered up, and metal bars were placed in front of them. What the fuck was going on?!

But Arthur wasn't given much time to think about it, as an arm was wrapped around his waist and his thin form was pulled against the broad chest of a certain American. The Brit groaned quietly- he didn't like affection too much, especially not in situations like these. Honestly, he wondered why the clingy and always cuddly American even stayed with him.

"Before you ask; the Spanish guy is Antonio and the asshole is Lovino," Alfred chirped and made Arthur wonder where he got all that positive energy from. They were in an unfamiliar house, tied up- or well, at least Arthur still was- and locked up, yet the American wanker still sounded like the most cheery person in the entire bloody universe!

"Hey, watch it, fucker!" now Arthur got a good view of the Italian. He had dark brown hair and matching eyes, which looked as if they were always glaring. A strand of hair escaped his brown locks and looked rather comical as it stood completely horizontally, only curling up at the tip.

The Spaniard only watched the three of them with amusement, though whenever his gaze shifted to Lovino, it turned into a rather loving gaze. Arthur could say that Lovino had really gotten himself a fine man. The Spaniard was handsome with green eyes, a slightly lighter shade of green than Arthur's, and dark brown hair that at the moment was a big mess.

"Whilst it is a pleasure to meet you all, I would like to know what the bloody hell is going on and why I'm tied up?" Arthur's voice was so calm yet serious that it made Alfred laugh. Arthur grumbled under his nose when he felt the rumbling in Alfred's chest.

"We were kidnapped, Artie!" there it was again, that stupid enthusiasm of Alfred's. Kidnapped, and he managed to laugh at the fact as if it was the funniest joke he had heard in his life. Honestly, Arthur was amazed why the lad wasn't dead yet with that attitude of his.

"We're bloody kidnapped and you just sit there, making a joke out of it!?" Arthur, at first, was a bit angry at the American, yet he was forced to release a sigh and give up his eternal struggle, though he would continue it later, no doubt. There was simply no way to make the American see reason and the actual severity of the situation. Perhaps his positive attitude wasn't that bad after all... Perhaps it is what kept Arthur going from one miserable day to another. Perhaps it would keep him going here, in this prison of theirs.

"We've been here for days, I think Alfred has just realized that there's no use crying over spilt milk," Anotnio commented, a smile on his lips. Great. Arthur felt like he had found another Alfred just less loud and American.

"I think that saying goes for entirely other things... How long have we been here and can someone please untie me? My wrists bloody hurt," Arthur gave Alfred a meaningful look, at which the American chuckled and ripped the ropes binding Arthur's hands. That stupid strength of his finally came to use...

"We've been here for days. We started getting worried about you since you wouldn't wake up," Antonio said as he mimicked Alfred, pulling Lovino against his chest, probably to comfort himself as Arthur could clearly read out fear from the Spaniard's eyes. Arthur, for one, didn't share this fear. He couldn't even grasp how serious the situation was...

...yet it was only a week later that the British gentleman begun to learn about fear that he should be feeling.

Recently, Arthur hadn't been moving around at all, not even trying to find a weak spot in the wall or a crack in a window. His condition had worsened more than the condition of the rest of the prisoners. The cocky Brit was gone, and was replaced by a small shivering form, always hiding in Alfred's arms. The only reason why he got any sleep was because Alfred would sing to him. They had all changed...

The obnoxious and loud American now rarely spoke or made jokes, his positive attitude wiped away ever since Arthur first started feeling worse. Now he, too, only thought about the day they would finally all die. He had accepted that fate.

Antonio didn't show his smile anymore either, and even Lovino had dropped his swearing and cursing, now more worried for Antonio. Every day would pass with the Italian trying to make the Spaniard smile and the American trying to protect his small Brit from the outer world.

It was on the 1th day- Arthur had counted- that they finally got to see the face of their captors. He was a stern looking man, with ice blue eyes and blond hair, slicked back. Despite the heat, he still wore a military uniform with gloves and all. But what scared Arthur the most was the shotgun hanging on his back, and the small pistol, hanging in its holster on his hip.

"Get up," Arthur watched as the barrel of the gun was suddenly staring back at him. Alfred's arms tightened around Arthur's shaking form, but Arthur simply pushed Alfred's hands off and stood up, even though tears formed in the corner of his eyes, ready to spill. It was probably visible- the shaking of his body.

Every muscle in his body tensed as the finger of the man ghosted over the trigger of the pistol- it was apparently Arthur's time to go. He didn't protest. He didn't mind. His only regret was the ring in his pocket and the question he had wanted to ask Alfred so bad, but never got the chance.

There was a gunshot that rang around the small room and a scream of despair. Arthur felt his body land on the ground with more force than it should have landed with. A sharp pain made itself evident in his back, but that was it. There was no bullet in his brain. But there was an uncomfortable weight on top of Arthur, which made him open his eyes.

"Alfred!" Arthur's couldn't help the scream of horror that left his lips as he saw his lover on top of him, blood running down his face, his chest not moving. Ignoring the gun probably being aimed at him, the yelling and screaming and the wild racing of his heart, Arthur sat up and laid the body of his lover on his back, his fearful green eyes fixed on his cerulean ones, which were slowly dimming, becoming duller as the last life force slipped out of him.

"No... No, this can't be... Alfred... ALFRED WAKE UP!" but his voice wasn't heard by anyone, his pleads and cries left unanswered by anyone who could help. His lover's body was left unmoving, not a single spark of life left in those cerulean eyes that usually shone ever so brightly.

"LOVI!"

Another shot, another scream of terror as Arthur's head snapped towards the shot. No, he thought, not again. Lovino's body fell to the ground as Antonio simply stood there, a gun in his shaking hands, pointed towards their captor, his face still stern even as he stared down the barrel of a gun.

"Antonio... Leave him... Run!" Arthur had placed his hand on Antonio's shoulder, his looked turned from one of sorrow to a look of determination. Alfred was gone... dead... Arthur was surprised he could keep his cool trough all this as Antonio dropped the weapon and the two of them ran out of the open door and towards their freedom that didn't seem half as beautiful now that it was just the two of them.

And now, two years later, Arthur Kirkland stood before the door of a small cafe, his look hopeful after all these years of being a prisoner of those memories and that horrifying moment.

Despite Antonio telling him to never contact him again, since it brought back painful memories, Arthur simply felt the need that he should tell him. If it really wasn't a dream, if Arthur really wasn't losing his mind, then Alfred was alive, and so was Lovino.

Taking a deep breath, the Englishman stepped into the cafe, not knowing this would be the start of a journey he wouldn't forget anytime soon.


	3. Journey for one

Arthur pushed open the simple door to the small cafe, the pleasant and familiar buzz of voices reaching his ears. A small bell signaled his arrival to the staff of the cafe. The business was going well; Arthur thought as he walked between the tables, trying to find a place to sit. Eventually he did come across a table in the back corner of the cafe with only one chair pushed sloppily under it.

A few curious eyebrows were raised when people from nearby tables noticed that Arthur took the chair and turned it so he was facing the door and his back was to the wall. It just felt more secure for him that way. One of the chair's legs was a bit too short, but that didn't bother Arthur, instead he enterntained himself by shifting his weight from one of the chair's legs to another.

"Hello and welcome to Antonio's! What can I get you-" the cheery Spaniard that had come over to Arthur's table stopped mid sentence as he fully registered the identity of his new customer. With his expression a bit darker than usual, he stared down the Brit in front of him.

"I thought we were never going to see each other again," the warm and welcoming tone had left Antonio's voice, replaced by a cold tone that sent shivers down Arthur's spine.

"Something came up, Toni; I need to talk to you. It's better if you sit," it was an order, not a request; that much the Spaniard could read out of the Englishman's tone. Without arguing or posing questions, Antonio took a free chair and dragged it over to Arthur's table, taking a seat so he was facing Arthur, his back to the door. Perhaps it was his own protest; protest against the fact that he had never gotten over the incident. Yet his depression wasn't a thing he could hide from Arthur; the Brit could see right through Antonio's cheery mask.

"Antonio... They're alive."

Even after years of practice, Antonio could not stop the look of surprise from creeping onto his face. He wasn't sure what he should do; the corners of his mouth were twitching into a smile at the news, yet he remained sceptical. How could they be alive?

"I saw Alfred yesterday. He came to me... And it was really him; I'm sure," Arthur continued, ignoring the deadly look that had now formed onto Antonio's face. "And if Alfred is alive, Lovi has to be alive too; he has to! We've been sitting here, ignoring our past for a very long time, Toni; I think it's time we went and did something! I think we need to go find them and if we can't, we need to at least take revenge!"

"...You promised me, Arthur... You promised we would never bring this up again," to Arthur's surprise, Antonio growled. "Lovino is dead and you... you insist on making my life hell..." slowly, the Spaniard stood up; Arthur realized he was shaking.

"NEVER DARE TO SPEAK OF LOVI AGAIN!" Antonio's fist landed against the table, making the whole cafe quiet down, only a few soft murmurs on the other side of the room remaining. Curious eyes turned to the pair, but the two of them didn't seem to notice.

"Just... Please... Leave me alone..." it seemed as if he wasn't speaking to Arthur at all; perhaps those words were sent towards the haunting memory. The Spaniard turned on his heel and marched off, leaving Arthur to wonder what he had said wrong. Then again, Arthur had sounded pretty insane telling that story...

With a sigh, Arthur stood up and made his way out. With or without Antonio, he would find Alfred and he would get his revenge.

With or without Antonio, he would prove that death won't do them apart.


End file.
